


My Soul for a Wish

by morganoconner



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint meets Agent Coulson for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Soul for a Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I swore I wouldn't title this after that godforsaken Cary Rae Jepsen song. You can see how well that worked for me. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Many thanks to Miya for the beta!

Clint eyes the door in front of him warily. By all appearances, it's the same as every other door down this corridor. Solid, white, windowless – all told, pretty fucking bland-looking. The only thing that differentiates it from its companions is the small silver name plate perfectly centered in the middle with 'Phillip J. Coulson' etched into it in a boring Times New Roman font.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Clint knocks. The sound seems to echo down the corridor, and almost immediately, a vaguely familiar voice calls from inside, "Come in."

Clint opens the door and peers inside. For the most part, the office is as bland as the door leading into it. Plain white walls, no decorations of any kind. Two chairs pushed up against the opposite wall, a large bookshelf in the back holding dozens of binders carefully labeled with their contents. Phillip J. Coulson himself is seated behind a solid oak desk covered in paperwork, sorted into neat piles with color-coded tabs in between to keep everything organized. If this were first contact, Clint would think Agent Coulson to be nothing more than a boring suit, which is probably exactly how Agent Coulson likes it.

"Can I help you?" Agent Coulson asks, and Clint finally looks at the man himself.

Blue eyes are the first thing he notices. They're striking, even in the terrible fluorescent lighting of the S.H.I.E.L.D offices. His face is open, and there are lines on it that Clint can tell got there from stress, not age. A calm demeanor, hands folded together over his current paperwork. Wearing a dark suit that even Clint, who knows jack-shit about fashion, can tell has to be fairly high quality. Clint isn't sure what he expected from the voice over the comm., but this…isn't it.

He also looks like he's getting impatient. He blinks slowly at Clint like that's going to get him talking faster.

"Uh. Agent Coulson, I'm Clint Barton. I just wanted to…" Clint trails off, because he's not actually entirely sure what he was hoping to accomplish with this visit. Just knew he had to make it before he lost any more sleep then he already has.

"Barton," Coulson says, closing the file folder in front of him and losing the polite interest on his face. Really, his whole expression just shuts down, wiped clean like a computer harddrive. It's awful to watch. "From Bolivia."

Clint flinches. "Yes sir."

Bolivia. The mission was a clusterfuck from start to finish, and it was also the only reason Clint probably ever heard of one Senior Agent Coulson.

"You debriefed with Agent Hill, correct?" Coulson asks. Clint notices his hand twitching where it rests on his desk. Like he wants to curl it into a fist and is restraining himself through sheer force of will.

"Yes, sir," he repeats. "Look, I just –"

"I apologize, Agent Barton. I'm not at liberty to discuss further details of the mission or what occurred after. If you want to know anything about –"

"No, that's not –"

"– your team or the funeral arrangements, you're better off talking to Director Fury or –"

"Seriously, would you just –"

"– Agent Hill. Either of them will be better equipped to handle –"

"Shut up, damn it, I'm trying to thank you!" Clint finally shouts. Coulson stutters to a stop mid-sentence, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry?" he asks.

Clint folds his arms to stop himself from fidgeting under that too-intense gaze. "Thank you," he repeats, gritting his teeth and hoping it stops the flush from spreading up his cheeks.

Coulson is silent for a long time before he finally lets out a shaky-sounding breath. "Agent Barton, your entire team was killed on that mission. Your handler _ran_. You barely made it out alive."

"Yeah," Clint agrees, because he was there, thanks, he remembers just fine. "Way I remember it, the only reason I did was because you got on the line from base and led me out of there. I was flying blind." He pauses, closing his eyes against the memory of screams. "Not your fault the others didn't make it." He knows whose fault it is, and God help the gutless bastard if Clint ever finds him.

Coulson's looking pretty shattered now, and yeah, Clint knows that look. The look of a man who's been blaming himself for things he had no control over, probably having nightmares he thinks he deserves, overworking himself because it's the only way he can even start trying to make amends…

"Look, just…accept the thanks?" Clint says. "I kinda went out of my way here to track you down because it was important to me. You did good, you got me out, you did better than anyone else could have in the same position. I owe you one. I owe you a hell of a lot more than that, actually. So _thank you_."

The stark desolation in Coulson's eyes finally gives way to a gentler sadness, and he gives Clint a small nod. "You're welcome, Agent Barton," he says softly. "And…thank you."

Clint shrugs it off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, uh. Don't know if you heard, but my handler recently took off for parts unknown, and Fury asked me if I had a replacement in mind I could trust. I heard a rumor you weren't planning on going back out into the field for a while, but I've gotta tell you, sir, that would be a damn shame. So, if you change your mind…" He shrugs again, trying for a grin.

Coulson blinks at him, looking stunned. He doesn't say anything, though, so Clint nods to him and makes a hasty escape. By the time the door clicks shut behind him, he's already halfway down that bland corridor and wondering when he became the guy to make split-second decisions without considering the consequences first.

Well, it was a good move anyway, he tells himself firmly. He thinks he and Coulson might be able to work well together, if Coulson gives it a chance.

He's pretty sure Coulson will give it a chance.


End file.
